


Day Fourteen: Playing with Food (AKA You're Too Sweet, Q)

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 30 Days of OTP: Bond/Q [14]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Body adoration, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Honey, M/M, Nutella, Playing with Food, Turned into a Three-Parter, Two-parter, dirty talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continued from yesterday: They've moved into the bedroom. Bond admires Q's body, Q admires Bond's fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Fourteen: Playing with Food (AKA You're Too Sweet, Q)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know anymore, okay? *shrugs* Things will start making sense again, I promise :D Just not this day.

 

Q opened his fridge and searched for anything that could be used as a topping for James. “Really should have thought this through...whipped cream in a can would have been _glorious_.” He grabbed the small container of cherries out of the crisper and slammed the door, then flicked open the cupboard door to grab the honey. “I’m going to have a gut ache in the morning, I just know it. Too much sweets.” He thought about the long white candles he had in a drawer, a gift from one of his frequent flings, he couldn’t remember her name - _don’t want to remember her name right now, not when I’m going to..._ \- then decided against it. Bond was an agent, one that got into a lot of painful situations. He wasn’t sure that the man would react favourably to hot things causing minor pain on his skin. _Sure, I enjoy it, but he may not. Perhaps another time, then._ He snatched up a couple spoons, eyed the Nutella on the counter...and grabbed that, too. _Chocolate, cherries, and honey. I’m going to be sugar high for WEEKS._ He chuckled and walked past the explosive action on the telly, arms full, and made his way to his bedroom.

James had stripped the bed of all but the fitted and loose sheet and laid down, the stark whites making his tan seem even darker. He blinked up at Q with those ungodly eyes and smirked. “You have more than just honey, I see.”

“Yes.” That was the only word Q could choke out because his brain wasn’t actually working anymore. All it was processing was just how stunning this man really was, and _how the absolute flaming blue hell have I managed to garner his attention?_ He smiled back at the dangerous man in his bed, and set everything down on the steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. The smile stayed on his lips as he leaned forward and crawled up the mattress, over the man laying on said mattress, and purred deep in his throat as he ducked down and reversed the trail his tongue had blazed before over hard muscle and breastbone and over the notch of the agent’s collarbone, not stopping until he sank teeth into the side of Bond’s neck with a growl.

“Oh, fuck yes,” James breathed, and Q reveled in how the man’s whole body seemed to respond and react, rolling and twisting beneath him, large hands gripping at his hips and shoulder and hair, fingers digging in at the back of the hacker’s hair to yank him over into a mind-melting kiss that was all teeth and tongue and heat and _now, fucking hell, now!_ Q sagged into the kiss, letting Bond grab the wheel and steer them into a rhythm, letting Bond’s amazing and strong body guide his own into motion. He rolled his hips, his erection sliding tantalizingly against James’s where the stickness of the ice cream had faded a bit. Where it hadn’t, there was a drag of skin that sparked and snapped in their nerves, making them both whine and grunt with the sensations firing up and down their spines.

“Wait, hold on!” Q pulled away from James’s hands, fingers pulling lightly at skin and hair, and sat up on his haunches - in Bond’s lap - and panted. “Too much. Had a plan. Going to implement it now.”

“What, fucking you into the mattress until you can’t even remember your own name?”

“Christ Almighty fuck- James, you need to shut up so I can focus.” Q’s lip quirked up, and his eyes lit up again.

“Do I?” The agent leaned up on both elbows, the stitches on his side pulling just enough to push his brain out of blind lust for a moment. “Our vaunted Quartermaster having focus problems? Unheard of. I thought you could work under extreme pressure.”

Q leaned backwards until he could reach the containers he’d brought with him, tossing spoons onto the sheets and gathering everything else in his hands. He heard the hitch of Bond’s breath in his throat, and knew exactly what it was - Q was very flexible, thanks to the yoga he tried to do every day but seemed to forget half the time, and thank GOD Bond hadn’t seen that yet. He knew what he looked like right then, because a lover had described it to him in a poem. His thighs sprung like a bow, the muscles in his abdomen standing out in exertion as they struggled to hold his body in the diagonal stretch... James’s fingers trailed lightly up his stomach, following the taut lines and tight skin, lighting a fire in the surface nerves and making his own breath catch in his chest.

“Shit, Q, you could be carved out of marble...” The tiger - _no, Bond’s more like a snow leopard, elusive and rare in the snows of a bitter winter_ \- the man beneath him shivered and sat up fully so he could run calloused hands around to Q’s back and up to his shoulder blades. “...your skin, your body, a masterpiece, God, don’t ever let me accuse you of being scrawny ever again, you beautiful creature...” His words were lost as a heavy tongue pressed against Q’s neck, running along the bulging tendon. Q hummed and let his body fall limp, allowing the man to hold him up. His eyes lit up as he watched Bond’s arms tighten and bulge, the hard muscles bunching as his weight settled. The food fell onto the bed and he gripped those arms tight as Bond explored his neck as though he’d never tasted a thing so sweet. One hand left a bicep and reached for the glass jar of honey, grabbing up a spoon at the same time, and shivered as Bond mouthed at his earlobe and muttered pretty things into his ear, the ear that he normally hears 007 in but now he was hearing _James_ and that was just brilliant.

“Brilliant.”

“Hmm?”

“I said ‘Brilliant’, James. You are brilliant.” Q gathered enough brainpower to open the jar, and held it up for the man to see. He smiled coyly and looked at Bond through his brows, expecting the sudden darkening of the agent’s eyes. _He likes vulnerable and innocent._

“It still has the honeycomb.”

“Organic honey from a friend of mine. He raises bees.” Q sticks the spoon into the goo and draws it out again, letting it drizzle along James’s broad shoulders and down onto his chest. “Only the best for my agent, my lovely...” He trailed off as he pulled himself up to mouth at the sticky syrup, drawing low hums and groans out of the man under his lips, under his hips - Q rolled his hips, pushing himself again Bond’s thick cock and hissing at the drag of skin between their stomachs. “God,” he murmured against the scar on James’s shoulder, the bullet scar, one of many and now sticky sweet with honey, “God, James, you feel so good on me...”

“Keep going.” James grunted into his hair and grabbed up the other container. “Keep fucking moving.” He unscrewed the cap and dug two fingers into the Nutella, then pressed them against the hacker’s red lips. “Suck.” Q obliged, taking both fingers deep into his mouth, wriggling his tongue between and around and over, pressing and massaging and moaning around him. James growled in his face and licked along the side of his face, nipping lightly at his cheekbones and his temple. “You are fucking amazing, Q, you brilliant little shit. I should hand feed you every bleeding day, you know that? Just feed you Nutella with my fingers, with you riding my cock.” Q moaned deeper, his eyes rolling in pleasure as he kept rolling his hips, thrusting against him. “Fuck, feels good. You feel good, _Gooood_ , Q.” He blinked and pulled his fingers out, watching them slide away from the hacker’s lips. “Amazing.”

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Q breathed as soon as he could, and dropped his head to Bond’s shoulder, the sticky honey mixing with the sweat beading at his hairline. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Not yet.”

Q started, and stared at him. “W-what?”

Bond smirked. “Lay down.”

It took a bit of jostling, but they managed not to tip the honey over while they switched positions, with James on top, resting his weight on one arm as he took up the honey jar - sans spoon again - and stuck the fingers of his other hand in. Q opened his mouth in anticipation, but the digits didn’t move up. They went down to wrap around his throbbing prick, then James’s mouth followed, wet heat contrasting with the cool slick of the sweet goo, making Q groan and push his head back into the mattress as he arched his back. “Jesus - James!” _Oh, that feels amazing_.

“I seem to have taken a liking to tasting your cock like this.”

Q looked down his body into Bond’s eyes, barely slivers of ice blue by this point, and growled at him. “You have, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yes.” He stuck his fingers back in the jar and drizzled the honey over Q. The hacker twitched and shook with each heavy drop that fell on the head of his cock, each line that rolled over the sensitive skin between his legs, over his balls, and his brain seized when those sticky fingers pressed against his thighs, a hot tongue following the path they left as Bond lifted his right leg up on his shoulder and mouthed at his knee, then dipped his blond head down past Q’s swollen prick and nuzzled at the very core of him.

“Oh, _God Bond_!” Q hissed and arched again, pushing his hips wantonly against the agent’s - _my boyfriend’s_ \- face as the man gathered up more honey and dripped it from his fingers onto his hot skin, following the golden liquid down, down, down... Q jerked as he felt the honey roll over his entrance, mewling and moaning in wildfire lust. _This did NOT feel like lube at all. This was something completely different. I already want to do it again, and we haven’t even fucking started yet! Come to think of it, honey may be too thick to use as a lubricant._ He wanted to tell James, but he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath because two slick, sticky finger wriggled their way into his hole and he couldn’t say much more than a conglomeration of Fuck, Bond, Yes, Hnng, and Jesus. His brain promptly forgot what the hell he was thinking about, and his hands scrabbled along the sheets, pressing against the springs, trying to find - fuck, what was he trying to find? Oh, lubricant! Honey, too thick, won’t be good -

“Oh, SHIT!” James raked a finger along his prostate in a ‘come hither’ gesture, a ‘I’ve done something evil’ smirk on his face, and Q gave up, melting into a pile of bone, oversensitive skin, and grey matter covered in honey. His hands stopped their desperate search and instead ran over his chest, his abdomen, fingers flicking at his nipples, pressing into his thigh muscles, running along his sticky cock...One hand found a home there as a third finger joined the other two - _and the feeling was different, oh, James found the lube, not honey -_ and the small, cool bottle pressed against his hip in a question. Q held his free hand out, and a dollop appeared in the palm of his hand. He wrapped this hand around his prick, hissing at the coolness, and he started jerking himself off in time with Bond’s fingers spreading him wide and pressing into him, hard. It didn’t take long for the rolling waves of sensation to coalesce into a brain-bending orgasm that whited out his vision and left him panting on the sheets, soaked in sweat, honey, and come.

 

 

To be continued .... 


End file.
